


Accidental ColdVibe

by Crimson1



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Cisco is an amorous drunk, F/M, M/M, but it's only a kiss!, drunk Cisco, musings on a Snart sandwich, not really coldvibe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-20 06:16:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4776707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crimson1/pseuds/Crimson1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ramon was rather liberal with the use of his tongue. And eager. And surprisingly not as sloppy as Len would have expected given his current state of intoxication. Now he knew Lisa wasn’t just love struck when she commented on the kid’s prowess and confidence—Len was experiencing it firsthand. </p><p>Actually ColdFlash and GoldVibe with a slight detour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Accidental ColdVibe

**Author's Note:**

> ColdVibe (no, that’s not a typo). It was an accident! And it’s not…really ColdVibe, technically. It’s GoldVibe and ColdFlash by the end, but this struck me while trying to go to bed the other night, and I could not get it out of my head!
> 
> Also, pretzel, if you read this here, I took out that Cisco had a hangover! :-)

Ramon was rather liberal with the use of his tongue. And eager. And surprisingly not as sloppy as Len would have expected given his current state of intoxication. Now he knew Lisa wasn’t just love struck when she commented on the kid’s prowess and confidence—Len was experiencing it firsthand. 

He started to push Ramon away, hands braced on the slighter man’s shoulders, but then…it had been a long while for Len. He couldn’t be faulted for enjoying a lingering kiss a while longer. After all, he was the one being accosted, and he could use this against the kid later if need be. 

Ramon had his hands clutched at the back of Len’s trench coat, up on his toes to kiss more on Len’s level, delving in deep and humming as he twirled his tongue. Len was reminded of having seen the young scientist paw heavily at his sister when they honey-potted him, and understood now why she’d been reluctant to cease the ruse right away.

Earlier, when Len had passed by the bar, turning down an alley to reach the back entrance to a nearby safe house, he hadn’t been able to ignore the crowd of men surrounding a much smaller figure with sinister intentions. Normally, he wouldn’t have bothered getting involved, but then he’d heard the kid’s voice, recognized it immediately and Ramon’s state of inebriation. He was egging the men on, completely oblivious to the peril in his drunkenness.

So of course Len stepped in, confronted by the men at first, but they backed away when they saw his face, before he’d even bothered to pull his cold gun from his jacket. 

“Hey, Cold…shit, man, he’s all yours,” one of them mumbled, and then the group scurried out of the alley, leaving Ramon scrunched and confused looking against the wall of the building. 

“I coulda taken ‘em,” he said without so much as a greeting. 

“Sure, kid. Now get on home.”

And Ramon had tried, pushed from the wall, headed for the mouth of the alley, only to stumble and nearly face plant. Len caught him, sighed, checked the alley both ways, and remembered the neighborhood they were in. If he let the kid stumble off, he’d end up in a similar situation to what Len just saved him from in minutes. 

“Hey, Ramon…Cisco. Where are you headed?” 

The kid slurred out an address, and since it wasn’t far—Len would have to remember that Ramon had an apartment a little too close to one of his safe houses to be…safe—he dragged the kid along after him. He soon hauled Ramon up to his apartment, digging none too gently in his jacket for the keys once they arrived. 

“Gettin’ frisky on me, Captain Cold,” Ramon slurred with extra emphasis on the code name, fully leaning into Len’s body and practically falling over. 

“When you’re sober in the morning, it’ll dawn on you how much trouble you would have been in with those men if I hadn’t happened by. You owe me.” He kicked the door open once unlocked, since he had an armful of Ramon to deal with. He just needed to toss the kid onto a hard surface, face down so he didn’t choke himself during the night, and he’d be gone, maybe best forgotten come morning, much as Ramon owing him could be worthwhile. 

Good deed done, Len readied himself to leave Ramon in peace, only for the kid to turn in his arms as soon as the door closed behind them and slide his tongue past Len’s teeth. 

Now, deciding that he had let this go on long enough, Len finally dislodged himself from the young man and held him at bay. 

“Mmm…wow, you Snarts sure know how to kiss,” Ramon blinked at him blearily. 

So he hadn’t simply mistaken Len for Lisa in his stupor. Interesting. But then his eyes widened, like his actions were catching up to him. He touched his lips as Len sat him in a nearby chair and headed for the kitchen to get a glass of water. 

“Oh shit…Barry’s gonna be so pissed at me.”

Len nearly dropped the glass he snatched from the counter to fill at the sink. “Barry will be pissed? And why might that be?”

“Your lips…he says it’s the only thing about your stupid face he doesn’t like.”

Len frowned to himself as he filled the glass, but before he could question further, Ramon continued. 

“Coz…Coz…” he attempted a few times before saying, “coz he always wants to kiss ‘em! And now I did it first. Shit. Shit…you won’t tell Lisa, right? Coz you…you kiss, like…amazingly, but I still like Lisa better.”

Len snorted, shoving the glass of water into Ramon’s hands. “Drink that. All of it. Now about Barry…”

To Len’s surprise, Ramon actually listened and downed the entire glass in a single go. Usually, drunks were a little harder to coerce to doing something good for themselves at this stage. It would help the kid’s hangover in the morning at least—slightly. 

“Shouldn’t he have been with you?” Len asked.

“Barry? He was. He flashed off early.” Ramon lifted the glass up clumsily for Len to take again, and he did, setting it on the coffee table. 

“He left you that drunk?”

“I wasn’t drunk when he left! Someone…someone bought me tequila. I think there was a bachelorette party?” He snuggled into the chair Len had put him in, head lolling, eyes closing. “I cannot hold my tequila,” he giggled, “but it’s so good!”

“Cisco…” Len prompted. He couldn’t let the kid fall asleep like that. And he still had more questions about Barry. 

Len tried several more times to rouse the young man, but the battle was lost. Ramon was out and soon snoring pleasantly. 

XXXXX

Cisco rolled over in bed and smacked his lips at the dryness, the chalky taste. He’d gotten so hammered after Barry left the bar, and on only a handful of shots—he could still hold his liquor better than Dante—that he didn’t even remember how he got home. Or into bed. Or out of his pants. At least his head wasn't pounding.

He realized then that what had woken him was the smell of coffee. And toast? Oh it all smelled so good, and he knew he’d feel so much more awake once he got some coffee and carbs in his system.

Cisco froze with realization about the time his feet were on the floor. Who was in his apartment? He looked down. He was in his boxers, his jeans not far away on the floor in a heap by his shoes, still wearing the same T-shirt from last night, but he definitely, definitely didn’t remember removing either article of clothing. 

He padded slowly, groggily, out of the bedroom into the kitchen, dread looming and hitting literally one second before he actually cleared the corner and saw his savior like a smack in the face. Cold. Captain Cold was in his apartment. He’d come to Cisco’s rescue, lugged him home, forced him to drink water. After Cisco had plastered himself all over the man and shoved his tongue down his throat. 

“Oh god…”

“I take it you remember last night?” Cold was in dress pants and an untucked indigo button down that Cisco was pretty sure had been tucked in last night, with a tie, and trench coat. The man handed Cisco a plate of simple toast with butter and a mug of coffee.

Cisco could do nothing but accept it, and downed a gulp of coffee before responding. “Why are you still here? Making me breakfast? And not, you know…disposing of my body?”

Cold huffed, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the counter. “What would it have done to my tenuous arrangement with Team Flash if I let you die of alcohol poisoning? Besides, given the amount of time it took you to create our guns, Lisa’s in particular, your usefulness has proven invaluable. Also in the way of…information.”

Cisco paused around a mouthful of toast. Cold’s eyes bore into him like a hungry timber wolf. 

“I’ll make a deal with you, Cisco,” he said, and at what point had he stopped calling him ‘kid’ or ‘Ramon’? Probably around the time Cisco tried to find his tonsils. “I won’t let Lisa know about our…rendezvous—she does get so very jealous when she has her sights on someone—and I’ll even look the other way if you decide to take her up on any of her various offers. She could certainly do worse.” He eyed Cisco up and down, and nodded to himself as if passing approval. 

Cisco felt unfairly exposed in just his boxers and a T-shirt. “If…?” he prompted.

Cold grinned. “If you give me Barry’s cell phone number.”

“What?! No way! How do you even not have that already with your creepy stalking skills!” Cisco backed up a step and took another swig of coffee when Cold reacted to that with a push from the counter and slow stalk toward him. 

“Someone…I’m assuming you…went to the trouble of keeping that particular information well hidden.”

“Why do you want it?” Cisco asked. 

Cold didn’t respond, just kept on grinning as he got in real close to Cisco, forcing him to clutch the mug and plate to his chest, hovering for nearly a full minute before he sidestepped around him. Cisco watched the man reclaim his tie and trench coat from being slung over the back of the sofa, a blanket left folded neatly on one of the cushions the only evidence that Cold had slept there. 

Cisco wavered on his feet from how surreal it all was. He smacked his lips together after another drink of coffee. He knew what Cold’s tongue felt like. He knew how to compare the Snart siblings’ ability to kiss—something both of them did very deeply, and slowly, and…shit, Cisco was too sober for these thoughts. 

“The number, Cisco, or the first one I’m telling is my sister.”

Double shit. “You are the worst, you know that. My phone’s in my jeans. Let me just—”

“Already have it.” Cold tossed Cisco’s phone onto the sofa. 

“You…” Cisco couldn’t process that at first. “You already took Barry’s number?!”

“I felt it more prudent to make a deal,” Cold said, “but I could have taken much more than one person’s phone number last night, Cisco. I could have done all sorts of things…and could do plenty now.” He crossed back to Cisco and snagged the coffee cup, downed a drink of his own, then replaced it in Cisco’s hand with a frustratingly coy wink. 

Cisco stared at Cold’s Adam’s apple as it bobbed while he swallowed, at his lips made shiny from drinking. He definitely wasn’t envisioning what a Snart sandwich might feel like—definitely not. 

“Always productive to see you, Cisco,” Cold said with a nod as he backed toward the door. 

“You’re not going to hold this over my head later, are you?” Cisco called just before Cold slipped out into the hallway. “I totally get you want to bug Barry about the whole…hating your stupid lips because he wants to kiss them thing, but you won’t tell him you learned that from me, right?”

“Please, Cisco,” Cold said, “this is a situation where I will definitely endeavor to…play it cool.”

Cisco resisted a groan. “And that’s the end of it? We’re even?”

Tapping his fingers along the edge of the door, Cold shrugged, “Even? Sure, kid. Til next time,” and winked once more before shutting the door behind him. 

Cisco finished his coffee. Tore into the rest of the toast. Considered the taste of Cold’s lips and tongue one last time…before deciding he needed a very, very cold shower this morning, and lamented how even that was a pun. 

THE END


End file.
